Memories in the Mirror
by Kanra-Kami
Summary: Italy finds a strange mirror which holds a pair of familiar blue eyes. As Italy tries to uncover the blonde blue eyed Empire from his past within this mirror, will he lose Germany in the process? Will he lose himself to his consuming obsession?
1. Chapter 1

"Ne, ne! Where are we going Germany?" nagged the boy with squinting eyes and auburn hair as they walked along a countryside road towards the east.

"How many times must I tell you?" came the deep voiced response. "We're headed to England's house so I can take care of some business. And there's no way I'd leave you at my place without supervision, who knows what kind of trouble you'll get into." The man's thoughts churned at all the embarrassing things Italy could uncover in his absence, like those magazines and tapes... Germany cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed.

"Uwahhh! England's house? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I don't want to go there, England will charge me with tanks and rifles!" The blue-suited Italian tried to make a run for it, but didn't even make it three feet before Germany grabbed him roughly from behind by the collar of his blue suit.

"That is precisely why I didn't tell you sooner, otherwise I never would have gotten you out of the door," Germany replied sternly, his brows pointed in a harsh downward 'V'. "Besides," the blonde continued, his cheeks colored with the slightest shade of red, "no one will lay a finger on you as long as I'm here..."

Italy stopped struggling at the consolatory words and looked over his shoulder at the man. "...davvero?" he asked weakly.

"Ja, ja," Germany replied with exasperation. "Now let's get a move on, we're almost there."

Before long the tall blue eyed German and small maple eyed Italian were ascending the steps of a quaint European home, greeted by a doormat with the image of two unicorns on it flying around the word "WELCOME". The sight of it made Italy slightly less uneasy, but did not cure his overall anxiety. The sound of a bell penetrated his wandering mind as Italy realized Germany had pulled the tassel of the bell hanging next to the door. He dared a nervous glance sideways at the German, who took no notice, and gave an unsteady gulp.

"...because Uni doesn't like sprinkles on his, so you'll have to do with it, the scones will be fine without." came a nasally muffled voice in a British accent from behind the large door, just before it opened to reveal a short man with messy blond hair and thick eyebrows, sporting a suit with a light pink apron over it. "Ah yes, Germany, do come in..." he said, obviously less than thrilled at the newcomer's presence.

"Ja, nice to see you too," Germany mumbled sarcastically, towering over the Englishman as he stepped inside. Italy tiptoed after him, doing his best not to be seen.

"Oh, I see you brought the pasta-lover as well..." England noted indifferently as he closed the door. A horrible chill shot up the Italian's back at the acknowledgment as he halted with a small, fearful utterance.

"By all means, there are fresh scones in the parlor." England yawned, pulling the feminine apron over his head, hanging it on the coat rack just inside.

"O-oh, that's okay," Italy said, feeling a bit calmer at the offer, "but English food usually tastes like the stuff they use to fill litterboxes with..." Italy realized his mistake when he saw England's back turn rigid.

"On hon hon, he has a point you know." came a suave, relaxed voice from the parlor. "Your food really does taste, how do you say, like crap."

"Shut it, you cape wearing freak!" England screeched, glaring at France through the archway between the entry room and the parlor. "Why are you even here?"

"Because that potato smasher owes me money," France said nonchalantly, gesturing towards Germany. Though part of the reason was that he wanted to see his younger sibling, Italy, though he would never admit it, even to himself.

"Go suck on a frog!" England retorted angrily as he sat harshly on the couch opposite France, the coffee table adorned with a silver tray full of scones between them.

"Ahem!" Germany cleared his throat loudly. "Can we get this over with already? I do have other things I'd rather be doing." he said menacingly.

"Yes, yes, alright." England agreed in agitation, sending a cursing sideways glance at France.

Germany plopped down on the second couch, across from England, right next to France, which sent uneasy chills down the man's back.

Italy noted that the only other spot among the two couches was right next to England, a place that he absolutely refused to sit in. He took a nervous glance around the room and spotted one last seat, a rickety old wooden chair full of splinters, cracks, and seemed to be held together with mere tape. He took a few apprehensive steps towards it when he heard a sharp "Uht!" from the couch behind. The blue clad boy halted with a nervous glance back towards the sudden voice, which belonged to England.

"Er, not...there...That's Busby's chair."

"Who is-?" Italy began, but was cut off by France.

"So Italy!" yipped the suave haired man. "Why don't we go take a walk, eh?" France's voice was awkward and shaky, it was clear that he wanted to leave the room, more particular, he wanted to get away from the mean and scary looking German.

"O...kay..." Italy replied, preferring France's company to England's any day.

"Come along, now, come along, we must hurry or we'll be late for tea...!" France went on shakily, shoving the Italian out of the parlor, mumbling on about incoherent nonsense, leaving the two remaining men with an awkward, shaky French laugh.

"What was that all about...?" Germany stared after them as they disappeared from view.

"Feh, he probably swallowed a bad snail." England replied nonchalantly. "Now then..." It was time to talk business.

The voices of the parlor faded away as Italy was shoved along by France. Once they were far away from the parlor they stopped and the Frenchman took a deep breath, exhaling in relief. "Man, I really don't know how you can live with that scary guy..."

"Eh? Germany?" Italy inquired. "I guess he can be scary, especially during training, but he's really a nice guy..."

"Yes, of course, and I'm tacky-clad school girl with a flat chest and trick knee..." the blonde gibed. "Man, England's house sure is boring when I'm not messing with him..." he pondered aloud. "There is that one place, though."

"That one place?" Italy repeated inquisitively.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be something of a secret, but England should have known I wouldn't keep it when he told me about it. Come on, this way," France pulled Italy towards a door that didn't quite match all the others in the house. This one was in a darker area, and full of dings and nicks. As he jiggled the loose, rusting handle he said "It's full of all kinds of strange junk."

"Eh? What is it, a storage room?" Italy inquired, somewhat interested.

"Sort of, just see for yourself." France pulled the door wide, but not much could be seen in the dark room below, save for a set of rickety stairs. Italy could hear the click from a cord that France pulled on just inside, instantly lighting up a small area. It wasn't much light, just enough to see down the rotting staircase.

Italy stepped forward, trying to peer inside.

"You first!" France said cheerily, giving the auburn haired boy a nudge. Though the Frenchman should have realized that an Italian's balance was as bad as his driving. Italy only had time to utter a short "Hyaa!" before he tumbled down the decaying steps into the darkness below.

"Oh crap..." France murmured, staring down the now empty stairs before him. "He'll be fine," he reassured himself.

Italy gave a weak cough as he lay sprawled on the dusty floor below. He was surprised, it wasn't wood, unfortunately for him it was cobblestone. "Ngh..." he uttered as he pulled himself off the ground, patting his hands against his blue suit for any dust. His eyes were wide, trying to adjust to the darkness, but it was no use, it was pitch black. Italy slowly tiptoed in a random direction, his hands out in front of him, until they touched up against a wall. A few more minutes passed before he finally found a light switch and flipped it. The Italian sighed with relief, his forehead leaning hopelessly against the wall before him. He took a moment to clear his head before turning around, but when he did he had to shield his eyes against the new light illuminating the room.

Italy slowly took his arm away from his eyes as he squinted out at the room before him. It was blurry as his eyes continued to adjust, but once they'd cleared he couldn't help but let out a small breath of astonishment. Before him was what seemed like a majestic antique shop, fulled from floor to ceiling with all sorts of fascinating items.

There were a few signs hanging about the many shelves and cabinets, a few of which were labeled 'spellbooks,' 'cursed objects,' 'potions,' and 'curious artifacts.' Italy apprehensively walked toward the menagerie of trinkets, to the area labeled 'spellbooks.' He squinted at various large books, many of which seemed to be centuries old. He glanced through some of the titles, including _Hardy Spells Tried and Tested Through Time_, _Malicious Comebacks_, _Rare and Ancient Spells_, _Spells to Aid the Horrible Chef_, but one of them stuck out in particular, it sat slightly askew from the others, as if it had been handled somewhat recently. It was a moderately sized one with gold leafing, and a distinct deep red color, reading _Cures for the Unrequited Warlock_. The curious Italian picked up the ancient looking book, noticing a limp satin bookmark hanging out of it, and turned to the page it was holding. He squinted at the small script on the parchment. 'How to Gain the Attention of Your Oblivious Love...' he slowly read the spell title aloud. "I wonder what Germany would think of such things..." he said to himself, noticing a small doodle on the page of a confident looking face with slick hair and glasses. It was quite a familiar face really. "Oh well..." Italy set the book back down where he took it from and continued walking.

The amber eyed boy continued walking around the curious room for the next hour, keeping sure to steer clear of the area labeled 'cursed objects'. As he was nosing around the 'curious artifacts' section the Italian came across a peculiar set of keys, large rusty ones attached to a metal loop that looked as if they belonged to a castle. He sat down on the dusty cobblestone floor, a solemn expression occupying his delicate features. As interesting as the place was, he was beginning to grow tired and bored. Was Germany still doing business with England? Would he notice Italy was gone once he was finished? He gave a sigh as he held the keys up level with his face. He gasped with a twitch of surprise when he saw a set of large blue eyes staring back at him past his dangling keys. His hand went limp and the keys fell in his lap. "G-Germany...?" he stuttered nervously, but as his amber eyes focused ahead of him, he realized there was no one there, just a large dusty mirror sitting against the wall, gleaming back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Germany slowly opened his stern blue eyes, drowsy at first, however upon finding a sleeping Italian in his bed, breaking some very fundamental rules of personal space, he bolted backwards in surprise, slipping over the side of the firm bed and onto the even firmer floor. With a groan, the muscular blonde pulled himself up, staring at the boy twisted up in his bedsheets. 'Honestly...' he thought to himself as he watched Italy breathing lightly. This pasta-obsessed dummkopf was really worthless...

As a light breeze blew through the room and shifted the light curtains, the bright morning sun shined against Italy's tussled hair, making it seem saturated in color. Germany's Aryan eyes passed over the auburn locks and a slight tinge passed over his cheeks. The sun shifted to the Italian's eyes, causing them to slowly flutter open. The blonde blinked a few times and looked away.

"Ehhh... Buongiorno, Germany!" Italy yawned with a smile, pulling himself up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He was clad in a pink tank top and neutral colored boxers, his skin a pleasant, smooth tan. "What were you looking at just now?"

"Er, the bedsheets. You came in and wrinkled them up again, even though you have your own bed." Germany found a reason to scold.

"But...they would have wrinkled anyway with you sleeping in them."

"T-that's not the point!" Germany retorted weakly. He wasn't very good at coming up with excuses.

"Mmm..." Italy didn't understand his ally's logic, but he let it drop, he didn't want to anger him further.

It was a fine late morning in a near-over September, and the weather was slowly but surely cooling down, and all things that were green were now turning to rich golds and reds and yellows. Even Germany had woken up later than usual, after the exhausting day before, visiting England's house.

After Italy had come across the strange mirror in England's curious basement, he spent the rest of his time down there looking at it until Germany came and found him. The amber eyed boy insisted he take it with them, and after a lot of bartering and puppy-dog eyes, he and the irate German left with the enchanting antique. "Whatever, you can have that old thing, all I ever see in it is some obnoxiously arrogant pair of blue eyes with a pair of glasses, like it's mocking me with it's stupidity..." England had waved the thing away like an annoying fly.

"You're worse than America when it comes to things you really want..." Germany had said once they finally returned home, to which Italy frowned and said "R-really...?" with a guilty expression.

"Okay, well perhaps not to that much of an extreme. But we really don't need any more useless junk cluttering up my home. You really ought to be more rational," Germany had lectured.

"I'm sorry Germany, there's just something about that mirror, Don't you ever have that feeling that something is hiding, just out of reach, something you need to figure out?" Italy told the Aryan, acting out of his usual carefree character.

Germany stared at his ally for a moment, but merely sighed, giving in to that soft, innocent face. "Ja, well it's not like I'm going to make you get rid of it, not after all the trouble of getting it here. Just keep it out of the way, in the wine cellar."

"All the way down there?" Italy furrowed his brow. "Well, ok."

The mirror had been left in the entry room when they arrived home, to be dealt with later. Now that Italy was fully rested from the tiring day before, he decanted the mahogany staircase into the room. There wasn't much in it besides the front door. A grandfather clock sat in the corner, which used to 'coo coo' ever hour until Germany grew fed up with it and tore the attachment out, claiming that it reminded too much of France. There was also a small table with twisty legs set against the wall, and a picture hanging above it depicting a wine bottle next to a bunch of grapes; Italy had insisted he 'enlighten' Germany with some cultural art from his house. The only other thing besides a dull, shaggy rug was the mirror, set against the wall next to the door, wrapped in a large grayish-purple cloth.

After a particularly starchy breakfast, Italy walked into the entry room with the intent of moving the mirror into the cellar as instructed by Germany. He walked over to the wall that it was leaning against, and stood on his tiptoes as he reached up to pull the light cloth off, revealing a magnificent antique. It towered over the Italian at about six feet in height, staring back at him. The frame was a solid silver, with intricate organic molding all around its slightly rounded figure. Italy laid his hand flat against the cold, sleek surface, staring into his reflection. "Who are you?" he whispered quietly.

The boy put a hand on each edge of the mirror and gave a heave. It didn't budge. This thing was heavy, he didn't realize it the day before when Germany was supporting the bulk of its weight. But Italy didn't want to ask him for help moving it, it was already generous enough of his ally to allow him to keep it. He gave another heave. Nothing. He spent the next hour trying different attempts at moving it. He tried pulling it with a rope, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall and pushing with his feet, taping feathers to it in hope that it would persuade it to become lighter, and even tried baiting it with fresh pasta. Nothing would budge the thing. It was already after lunchtime and Italy was still in the entrance room with the obstinate mirror. He wrapped his arms around it in a final attempt.

"Nngh...!" the boy grunted as he pulled with all his might, not feeling any give from the mirror.

"Er, what are you doing?" came a deep voice from behind.

"Ack!" Italy released the mirror in surprise, falling backwards. He fell against something somewhat soft and covered in a canvas-like fabric.

"Eh...?" Italy blinked. He turned his head to see what had caught him and saw the blue eyed German staring down at him. "Ah! Please don't hit me, I'm sorry! I was trying to move the mirror, see, and well it's really heavy, and doesn't seem to be easily persuaded, not even by pasta, so I was trying to give it another push, and it just won't budge, so I...I...umm..." Italy's incoherent babbling trailed off.

Germany blinked. Something about this seemed strangely familiar, as if it had happened a long time ago... Germany shook the feeling away and said "Why didn't you just ask for help, it would have been much more productive if you'd just asked me to begin with."

"Umm, I, I dunno, I guess I uh...yeah..." the Italian trailed off without an answer.

Germany gave an exasperated sigh. "Move aside, I've got it."

Italy blushed as he stepped back out of the way, twiddling his fingers.

Germany lifted the mirror as if it were made of Styrofoam, supporting it on his left shoulder as he turned towards the direction to the cellar.

Italy watched the blonde from behind as he walked away with the mirror and slowly followed. "Why are you so interested in this thing anyway?" came his slightly irked voice.

Italy didn't say anything for a moment as he followed his ally. "Well," he finally spoke, "There's just...something about it, I can't explain, it's like there's something I need to uncover." He sighed. "Never mind, you'll probably think I'm crazy."

"..." Germany didn't know what to say. All those times he had wished for Italy to act more serious, seeing the Italian like that was almost unnerving. They walked down the steps into the wine cellar where Germany set down the large mirror in a vacant spot. "Say, Italy, why don't we go visit Japan today, maybe we can have lunch with him." The German thought the fresh air would do the boy some good.

"Eh? Oh yeah, maybe I can try eating with those little wooden sticks again!" Italy smiled brightly, the mirror fading from his thoughts as he looked up at Germany. "Oh, oh! Let's have a picnic, Germany, can we have a picnic? Please?" the young Italian begged with excitement.

"Ja, fine," he sighed in reply. "Just don't get drunk and mistake his paper lanterns for pińatas like last time."

"I'll be a good boy!" Italy saluted. "Now come one, come one, let's go!" he tugged on Germany's arm like a child wanting to go to the ice cream parlor.

"Alright, alright, don't get your höschen in a bunch..." Germany unconsciously set his hand on top of the short Italian's head in fondness.

With that the two men walked out of the wine cellar, leaving the mirror behind. What they didn't know was that a pair of melancholy blue eyes was staring after them.

"Italia..."

*~Ж~*

_Hey guys, its Kanra! =3 So, this is the second chapter of my first ever fanfiction, and I'm so excited about it^^ I have no idea how many chapters I will have, but you can be pretty sure that they won't be super long, but there will be plenty. I prefer it that way because it allows me to upload chapters more quickly, for your enjoyment =D I really hope you enjoyed the story thus far, and will continue to read. See you next chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

Italy had slept like a rock that night. He had too much booze when they visited Japan, and Germany ended up having to carry the boy all the way home on his back. Though the auburn haired Italian slept like a rock that night, it was not a particularly pleasant slumber.

Italy woke abruptly, bolting into an upright position, his brows knitting together in fear. Blue eyes. Those blue eyes. They had filled his dreams with an unfathomable feeling of loneliness, as if he were waving goodbye to someone he loved, knowing they would never meet again.

"Ge...Germany!" he cried, springing off his bed, the light yellow covers falling to the floor as he ran down the hall, his bare feet pounding against the wood floor. He burst into Germany's room, but stopped abruptly after busting the door open, standing on its threshold. "Germany...?" Italy frowned, staring at the large bed. It was empty. "Eh?" he stood there in surprise, wearing nothing but a light colored pair of boxers and a wrinkly dress shirt, buttoned only at the very top notch. His hair brushed along his forehead as he tilted his head to the side. He wasn't here?

The boy turned on his heel, rushing down the swirling stairs to check where the muscular blonde man was at. He was home, of course. He had to be. Germany never left Italy here alone. But he wasn't in the kitchen, or the parlor. He wasn't in the office, closets, bathrooms, or even on the patio. There was no way...

Italy inhaled as much air as his dainty lungs would allow and planted his bare feet firmly on the floor. "GER-MA-NY!" he called as loudly as he was capable of. He held a hand up to his ear and listened. There was no 'shut up, I'm working,' or a 'what is all the racket this time,' not even a 'don't tell me you got your hair stuck in door hinge again.'

"Eh...?" Italy wined quietly, cold panic slowly creeping up his skin. Hold on! Germany must be in the attic, that explained why he couldn't hear Italy call him! The amber eyed boy walked over to the hallway where the hatch for the attic was. Italy gave a nervous gulp as he looked at the string hanging from the square board that blocked the attic from the rest of the house. It was really high...what if Italy fell and hurt himself? 'No!' he thought as he vigorously shook his head. 'I hafta find Germany! No matter what!'

"Nya!" he let out the sound as he jumped, his hand extended upwards for the pull-string. No good. "Nya!" he jumped again. Again and again he tried, but it was no use, he was to short. If Germany were there the man would have no problem reaching up and pulling it down without having to hop around like a fool. However, if Germany were there in the attic then it would not be closed up the way it was. Of course, someone with as little common sense as Italy would never have realized that.

Still in his sleepwear, Italy ran downstairs to the kitchen and retrieved a chair, dragging it back to the hall and setting it directly beneath the attic door. He slowly climbed up, his loose shirt rustling with his movement, he stretched up, and his hand grasped around the string.

"I did it!" Italy said to himself excitedly, and gave the string an enthusiastic pull. The hatch swung down, the compacted ladder came with it, smashing down right on the back of his head with an equal amount of enthusiasm. The Italian was knocked forwards, off the chair, clattering to the floor.

"Hyaaa!" he cried, clamping his hands down on his head, rolling spaztically around on the wood floor, wet beads in the corners of his eyes. "Fa male!" he cried as he rolled back and forth with his teeth clenched. "Fa male! Fa male!" After a dozen or so more revolutions on the floor the quivering Italian picked himself up and set a hand on the back of the chair. He looked up into the dark hole and took in a deep breath. "I really hope you're up here Germany..."

Italy wrapped his fingers around one of the rungs of the ladder. Then the other. Then his feet. His limbs alternated with each other as he hoisted himself up little by little. Finally he was close to the top. Italy slowly raised his head up, just enough so his eyes could peak over the ledge of the square hole. He blinked a couple times, then squinted. It was really dark in there.

"G-Germany?" Italy called nervously into the blackness. "A-are you h-here?" The attic was really creepy, especially since he couldn't see much of anything. Everything smelled musty, and his nose tickled whenever he breathed from all the floating dust particles. He dared to hoist himself up another inch or so, his pointed nose now peaking over the edge as well. "Hello?"

_Shkshkshk. _There was a rustling sound coming from the abyss before him, but what was it? It sounded much lighter than a person, much less Germany. Nervous shivers began to travel up Italy's back. "Germany...?" he said, almost in a pleading whisper. _Shkshkshk_. Italy's lips started to tremble as the sound came closer. He squinted, attempting to see what was lurking in desperate hopes that it would be Germany. A small pair of round yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness. Italy's whole body was quivering at this point. _Pii_! The high pitched squeak was what broke the camel's back. Italy let out a loud "Hyaaaa!" as he climbed -more like ran- down the ladder with easily twice the speed that he had when he had ascended it. With rapid motion he landed on the chair beneath in a frog-like position on all fours with a violent thud that shook the floor. He stood stretched as high as he could on the chair and pushed the ladder back up into the compartment. He shoved and shoved but it would not stay closed. The auburn haired boy began to panic at this point and after running in terrified circles he left the hall having patched the solution with the only solution he could think of at a time like that. Duct tape.

Acting on impulse and instinct, Italy retreated not to his own, but Germany's room, plopping himself in the center of the large mattress. His brows furrowed as a melancholy pout formed on this lips and pulled his knees in under his chin. 'Where are you, Germany?'

Italy sat their for a while before his eyelids started to feel heavy. He let out a loud sigh as he let himself fall back onto Germany's pillows, spreading his arms and legs loosely as if he were going to make a snow angel. He gave a small groan as if he were a puppy waiting for its master. He turned on his side, inhaling deeply, all the bedding wrinkled and bunched up around him. It smelled good, comforting. It smelled just like Germany... The boy curled his fingers around the edge of the light blanked beneath him and pulled it closer, burying his face in it. It smelled like beer and gunpowder and crisp morning, and made him feel the way one does when they wake up smiling, knowing that their day will be a good one. Italy drifted off to the thoughts of seeing Germany smiling at him, and he smiling back.

Italy dreamed that England was chasing him around with a spell book in hand whilst spouting magical nonsense after the fleeing Italian. Then Germany came and chased the Brit off with a potato cannon, but then France came and trapped Germany in a giant coo-coo clock. Each time the clock went to chirp Germany's angry face came out instead spouting orders like 'tie your shoes!' and 'stop retreating!' The coo-coo continued and the sound morphed into a repetitive chime. Ding dong ding. Ding dong ding. Louder and louder, it continued until Italy slowly opened his eyes.

The auburn haired boy rubbed his eyes as he usually did when waking from a siesta and slowly pulled himself out of the bed. He stumbled lazily out the door and into the entry room to look for an off switch on the grandfather clock. The more he searched the large antique the less groggy he became. After several minutes of searching whilst the clock chime continuously, he realized the sound wasn't coming from this clock. In fact, this clock was rendered incapable of making noise ever since Germany tore the coo-coo extension out.

The Italian pricked up his ears and listened for the chime. It was coming from the opposite end of the house. He left the room and followed the sound, which seemed to slowly morph into a more melodic tone, until he came to the downstairs hallway. The sound was definitely coming from the other side of the door at the end of it. As Italy slowly walked closer and closer, the tune started slowly fading away. He was almost sad, it really was a pretty sound, but now it was barely audible. He reached the door at the end of the hall; it was the door to the wine cellar. Italy apprehensively reached for the knob and wrapped his fingers around it, but for a few moments he did not move. In those last few seconds the chime completely died, so he twisted the knob and turned it in hope that he would hear the sound once he opened the door.

But there was no sound. Nothing at all. The only thing audible came from the click of the light switch that Italy flipped, and the creak of the steps as he slowly walked down them. The only things in the dusty cellar were racks of glass bottles, a couple of wooden crates, and-

"The mirror..." Italy said softly, walking up to it. He bent over slightly, squinting at the mirror. "Were you the one making all the pretty music?" he asked the inanimate object. Of course he wasn't expecting it to reply, and he certainly wasn't expecting a large pair of light blue eyes to be blinking back at him.

"Gah!" Italy cried in surprise, stumbling backwards, landing on his backside. The amber eyed boy blinked up at the mirror, and to his surprise he wasn't quaking in fear, in fact, he wasn't scared at all. The eyes staring back at him were sort of...calming.

The eyes belonged to a round, boyish face that seemed faded, almost transparent, and was difficult to make out. Combed blonde bangs fell evenly across the top of a pair of golden eyebrows that floated above the blue pools. That's all Italy could make out, that and the fact that those eyes were filled with a soft sadness.

Italy shifted forward from the position from when he had fallen and moved forward, slowly crawling on his hands and knees towards the mirror. "Um... Can...can you hear me? Are you really there...?" Italy asked softly, unsure. He wasn't imagining things was he?

The faded face gave a small nod. It was like the mirror was filled with a fog and the boy was peeking through it, for the most part enveloped in the mist. Italy could still see a light reflection of himself and the cellar behind him, as if the mirror were a window, reflecting on either side.

"Who are you?" Italy asked, leaning closer to the glass.

The blonde boy blinked softly and tilted his head slightly as if he were thinking about what to say. But before the boy in the mirror could do anything else, a loud door slammed up above somewhere in the house, and Italy turned his head towards the sound in surprise. When he looked back to the mirror the boy was gone. Italy frowned with his eyebrows knitted together. Would the boy come back?

"Italy, I'm back! Sorry I was-" a familiar voice called from above, but suddenly halted to be taken over by a "Why is there duct tape all over the attic hatch?"

Italy's mind was wrenched away from the mirror as a large smile spread on his face. He jumped up off the floor and ran up the creaky steps and out of the wine cellar, and up the stairs leading to the second floor. He almost passed Germany in his eagerness to find him. The man was standing just outside the archway of the hall, watching Italy run.

"Ah!" Italy chirped, turning on his heal and jumping up onto the Aryan, wrapping his arms around Germany's neck, and legs around his waist like a child clinging to its mother. "Germany, where were you? I was real worried, I woke up from a bad dream and you weren't there so I looked in your bed and you weren't there and you weren't in the kitchen or the closet or the toilet or the-"

"Halt die Klappe!" Germany interrupted the babbling Italian. "Calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack."

Italy's words dissipated as he looked up innocently at Germany. "Where were you...?" he asked in a soft, almost hurt tone.

"I take it you didn't see my note..." Germany replied. He responded to Italy's inquisitive look by saying "I wrote you a note because you wouldn't wake up, no matter how violently I shook you."

Italy blinked.

"Mein bruder called this morning, screaming about Hungary chasing him down with a frying pan. Something about him making fun of her femininity... By the time I got there she had beaten Prussia into a pulp, so I had to...mediate the situation."

"Uwah, Miss Hungary did that?" Italy cooed.

"Er, yes. Now," Germany said oddly, "do you think you could get off of me?" The boy was still in the same boxers and oversized dress shirt from that morning.

Italy loosened his grip on the Aryan and lowered himself to the floor, keeping his arms loosely around Germany's neck, though he could barely reach, having to stay on his tip-toes to do so.

"So, um..." Italy said in a small voice, almost inaudibly. Germany looked down at him inquisitively. "P-please don't leave me alone like that anymore Germany!" Italy blurted, tightening his grip around Germany into an embrace.

The German blinked with wide eyes of surprise as his cheeks began to flush. He was momentarily frozen. After a second or so he moved awkwardly, patting Italy's head with one hand, letting the other dangle at his side because he didn't know what he should do with it. "J-ja... Bitte, I won't do it again." Germany's hand shifted from the top of Italy's head to the back of it and brought him in closer to show his apologies.

"Ngh," Italy flinched.

Germany cleared his throat awkwardly and backed away, searching for anything to look at but Italy. "S-sorry..."

"Oh, no, it wasn't you, I hit my head on the attic hatch when I was looking for you earlier." Italy said cheerfully with one eye closed. He gave a little tap to his head with his knuckles.

"I'm not even going to bother asking..." Germany sighed. "I guess that explains the duct tape...sort of...never mind..."

Italy clasped his hands together behind his back and smiled up at Germany. "I'll go make some pasta to celebrate your return!" With that the Italian boy turned, his auburn locks whipping around with the motion, and skipped down the stairs.

Germany couldn't help but let a small, serene smile slip across his lips as he watched Italy's figure descend the stairs and vanish after the boy turned the corner.

_Chapter three already! =D_

_I'm so excited that this story is getting so many views, or, more views than I expected anyway. This is my first fanfic after all =3 I do hope you enjoyed it and will continue to read and post reviews! I also started another story with Japan and America, but the stile is considerably different from this one. All your guys' support makes me want to write and update as quickly as I am able =D_

_See you next chapter~!_


	4. Chapter 4

Italy blinked up at the harsh German, his head tilted to the side. "Camping... trip...?" he inquired.

"Ja, you could call it that," Germany replied.

Italy blinked a few times as a grin slowly stretched across his lips. "Ve!" he cheered, running circles around Germany, his arms spread out at his sides like wings. "A real camping trip! A real camping trip!" he cooed until his face suddenly collided with an opposing force. It was Germany's open palm, which was held out in a 'stop' gesture. The man had no mercy.

"This is going to be a serious trip, I don't want you bouncing around like an idiot while the three of us are walking around in foreign terrain."

"Three of us?" Italy inquired, his face still muffled in the German's hand.

"Yes, Japan is coming as well," the blonde informed, removing his hand from Italy's face in order to point at him authoritatively. "We're leaving tomorrow morning, so make sure you are completely packed and prepared for the trip."

Italy put on a tough expression as if he were a soldier and gave Germany a salute. "Yes sir!" He turned on his heels, his arms spread out like they were before as he bounded away chanting "Camping trip! Camping trip! Ve...!"

The truth was that it wasn't just any camping trip, it was four days of training in the mountains. It was impossible for Germany to overlook Italy's overwhelming lack of soldier material, and Japan was simply too introverted and hesitant. It would be a good experience for the both of them, and would hopefully toughen them up to be the allies he needed.

"So, um, Germany," Italy inquired the next day as they walked along a scruffy trail of rock and earth with mild surroundings, including trees and bushes and other such foliage.

"What is it?" the German replied, glancing at his compass.

"When do you think we are going to stop for lunch?"

"We won't be. I've packed some sandwiches and fruit for lunch, which will be easy to eat while walking."

"Eeeeh?" Italy whined. "B-but, b-but, Germany! It's not good for the digestive system to eat while walking and not even stopping! Well unless you're trying to catch up to a pretty girl to flirt with, but there are no girls on this mountain...! C-can't we at least take a break? Or maybe stop for a siesta? Ne?"

"_Nein_! We are not stopping unless absolutely necessary, and stationary lunching does not qualify as such!" the German barked with a stern, downward glare at the auburn haired boy.

"Uwaaah!" Italy complained. "I thought camping was supposed to be fun and relaxing..."

"Please do not worry, Italy-kun, just think about how much more natural beauty of the surrounding landscape you will be able to see by not stopping," Japan reassured in a calm voice.

"I guess so," Italy sighed, pulling at the straps on his backpack.

Italy wore blue shorts with a sailor top, sporting a large hiking backpack, Japan wore his usual white and gold suit, formal as ever, a bag on his back similar to the one Italy had. Germany adorned a black tank top, gloves, camouflage pants, a greyish cap, and a particularly large bag on his own back, which even had a few cooking utensils hanging from it. The dog tags on his neck gleamed brightly against the shining sun.

"So where exactly is it that we are going, Germany-san?" Japan inquired. "It must be far up the mountain if we will be traveling all day." It could be seen that even Japan was struggling with the hike. He was not one known for endurance.

"Well there is a place up the mountain where it levels out a bit, and there are many clearings that can be used for setting up camp for the night. We should arrive some time before dark."

"I see," was all Japan said, with no expression to imply the connotation of his words.

"Ne, Germany, can I have my sandwich now?" Italy asked, hunched over a bit, dragging his feet.

"Are you certain? I only packed proper rations for today's lunch. You will probably be hungry again before long."

Italy nodded his head vigorously. "I'm gonna starve to death if I don't eat."

Germany let out a sigh as he stopped and knelt on the rocky terrain, taking his pack off to dig for the lunches. After pulling a sandwich out and zipping the bag back up, Germany stood, handing the lunch to Italy and said "You're going to regret this later when your stomach starts growling."

Italy said nothing but took the sandwich and started eating.

"Eh? What kind of sandwiches are these?" Italy inquired after a few ravenous bites.

"Wurst." Germany replied simply.

"Oh, I didn't know you could make sandwiches with sausages..." Italy said before shoving the rest into his mouth in one large gulp. "Ehhh..." he frowned with obvious dissatisfaction. "This tastes like the stuff that you use to put in boxes to send in the mail..."

"Packing peanuts," Japan commented.

"I'm going to stuff you in a box if you don't be quiet," Germany fumed.

They walked on for another few hours, a consistent bombardment of Italy's complaints swarming around them. 'Germany, can't we stop for a nap?' 'Germany, I'm still hungry.' 'Germany, I have to pee.' Japan said very little, and Germany yelled a lot. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, and the sky shifted into a palette of warm colors.

Germany heard a sort of gravelly noise of something impacting dirt behind him and a long, drawn out whimper. He turned to see Italy on his knees, panting with a pained expression on his sweaty face.

"Germany, I can't do it anymore, I just can't. My feet feel like they're gonna explode, and if I don't get some food I'm definitely gonna die."

"Get up, Italy," Germany said sternly to the boy. "This trip is designed to push you and make you a stronger soldier. Now, get up!" he demanded.

Italy shakily tried to push himself up, and set a foot against the ground, but only slipped back to the coarse path with a genuine whimper of pain.

Germany quickly stepped forward and knelt down to Italy's level. "You really are in pain, aren't you?" he asked in a surprisingly worried tone.

"Ngh, n-no, it's just my – ah!" Italy held his foot, his eyes squinting in pain.

"Let me see," Germany leaned in closer, looking down at the Italian's feet. "No wonder, you're wearing the wrong type of shoes, these certainly weren't made for hiking..." Germany's voice still held it's usual sternness, but there was also something else in it, something more vulnerable. He gently pulled off Italy's shoes to reveal a pair of delicate feet covered in sores and blisters. _Dumkopf_, you've gone and done something stupid again."

"I'm sorry Germany..." Italy frowned up at the other.

The blonde let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Well if you'd like, I packed some medical supplies," Japan spoke up. "I have some herb-based ingredients to help the healing process and pain, as well as bandages."

"That will work," Germany gave Japan a nod. "After I patch up Italy, we can continue to the first clearing we find and set up camp and rest for the night."

"Hai. Give me a moment and I will get them." Japan dug through his hiking bag and retrieved a spool of gauze, disinfectant, and a couple jars, illegibly written in Japanese.

Germany spent the next few minutes applying the contents of the jars that Japan offered. He took the gauze and unraveled a good length, ripping the strip free from the roll with his teeth, and began to wrap around the wounds with surprising gentleness.

"I'm sorry for all of the trouble I'm putting you through," Italy said with a frown as he watched Germany finish wrapping his feet.

"_Dumkopf_!" Germany replied loudly. "That's why you have allies! To help you out when you're in a pinch." Germany's harsh expression turned into a soft smile.

Italy returned the smile and said "And I will help out you when you're in a pinch! Right?"

"Right," Germany replied with a cool smirk. "So don't worry so much." He gave a final yank on Italy's foot as he fastened the bandages in place. "Now then," Germany turned his back to Italy in a kneeling position. "Get on."

"Eh...? Are you sure you want-"

"Don't make me repeat myself!"

"Kya! Okay, okay, I'm sorry, just please don't hit me!" Italy scrambled onto Germany's back, wrapping his arms around the man's neck.

"_Dumkopf_..." Germany sighed. He stood up with ease, regardless of the extra weight on his back, and they continued walking along the mountain trail.

Italy gave a small, melancholy sigh. Germany seemed really harsh at times, but sometimes he forgot how kind the man could be. A lot of others never saw that soft side of Germany. It seemed almost like Germany's and Italy's little secret. The amber eyed boy gave a yawn as the sun slipped lower into the warm sky and rested his chin on Germany's shoulder. "Ve.." That same smell of gunpowder and beer. But it seemed stronger than usual, and then Italy realized; he had never been so close to Germany before. The thought, for whatever reason, made Italy feel like his heart had just twitched. Sudden butterflies? What was that about? Italy tightened his arms around the German slightly, feeling the heat radiating from him. He felt more secure than he could ever recall feeling. It was like no troublesome things existed. No England trying to capture him, no older brothers trying to take his regions, no running from Switzerland's gunfire or Russia's petrifying gazes, no more fear of being alone...

Before he had even realized it, Italy had fallen into a light sleep, his body rested against Germany's, his arms wrapping fondly around the Aryan even in his slumber.

*~X~*

_Kyaaa! I feel like it's been so long since I wrote a chapter for MM! D: I've noticed how it seems my updates are less frequent latelhy, I'll try to be better about that. There are just so many distracting and less productive things in life x3 _

_I know I said this story was going to be my main priority, but I think that priority is shifting to Brooklyn Blacksheep, but I love both these stories, and can't wait to keep writing! There hasn't been much love for these two Hetalia romances lately, hopefully more people will start reading ;D Reviews are always appreciated, whether you say how much you love it or how much you hate it [though I hope it's not the latter xP] _

_I'm curious, which do you like better so far: Memories in the Mirror, or Brooklyn Blacksheep? Lemme know, I'm curious! ;P_

_ See you next chapter!_


	5. Chapter 5

Italy blinked a few times and was momentarily panicked when he didn't know where he was. He looked down and saw that he was in the nook of a large tree, leaning against the trunk. Upon hearing a familiar voice he calmed down and remembered that Germany had brought him and Japan on a camping trip.

"...it should heal up well enough overnight. The herbal remedies I used are very good for the healing process." Italy heard Japan saying from about ten feet away.

"Well that's good, we still have a lot of training to cover over the next few days," Germany said.

Italy stood with reluctance and walked tenderly over to the other two. "Are we already at the campsite?" he asked wearily.

"Italy," Germany turned in mild surprise. "You really shouldn't be on your feet right now."

"Mm, well it doesn't hurt as much as it did before," Italy said as if only realizing it for himself at that moment. He turned to the other and slapped him on the back fondly. "That's some good stuff you got there Japan! I can't feel a thing!"

"Yes, well," Japan replied tamely, "that is what it is supposed to do, but if you stay on your feet it will only make the wounds worse, regardless of whether you can feel the pain or not."

"Eh...?" Italy squinted up at Japan. "But don't you still need to set up camp? I want to help too!"

"Listen, Italy," Germany spoke up. "You'd be doing us and yourself a lot of help by taking it easy for the night, and letting your feet heal up. Besides, I won't have to worry about you the whole trip if I know you had a chance to recover."

Italy blinked up at the tall blonde and a petite smile slipped onto his lips. "I didn't know you were so worried, Germany. It's kinda freaking me out."

A sickly expression overtook the man's sharp features. "I-I didn't mean it that way!" he protested. "I merely want to ascertain the health of my comrades!"

Italy sat for a moment with a thoughtful, uncomfortable expression on his face, one that made it seem that the boy hardly ever thought about things at all. "I know!" he declared after a moment. "I know how I can help out without making you worry!" Italy beamed up at the two and answered their inquisitive stares. "I'm gonna cook dinner!" he said, seeming to have unpacked the entire contents of his bag within that statement. There was a great menagerie of cooking utensils and hardware, including a giant pot, several smaller ones, a ridiculously large supply of pasta, tomatoes, spices, and knives of various sizes.

Germany stared blankly at the display. "How the hell did he fit all that in his bag...?" he mused in audible shock.

"This must truly be a new form of technology!" Japan had even shown his share of awe.

"Okie-dokie!" Italy clapped his hands together as if that was that. "The two of you can do the hard labor, and I'll stay in this spot and cook dinner. I don't even have to get up!"

"I guess that will work," Germany pondered aloud, turning to Japan. "You and I can finish setting everything up in the meantime. But Italy, how are you going to cook pasta without any wa-" Upon returning his gaze to Italy, Germany took in the sight of a pot of thoroughly boiling water. "_How the hell-_?"

"Please come along, Germany-san," Japan said quietly. "We must not disturb whatever forces are allowing Italy-kun to wield such culinary power."

"Uh...sure..." Germany sighed, turning to walk with the other. "I shouldn't be surprised after knowing him this long..."

After an hour or so, dinner had been prepared and eaten, and the camp had been established save for a few minor parts. Germany had succumbed to another speechless gawk when Italy had presented a large teramisu cake. Japan had merely tried to take notes on possible theories on how the Italian had managed to fit so much into one moderately sized bag and produce a fully cooked dinner and dessert out of seemingly thin air.

"With all that, you did manage to fit your essentials in that bag of yours, didn't you?" Germany asked the airy boy.

"What do you mean, Germany? These are my essentials."

"You're telling me that's _all_ you packed?" Germany wrinkled his nose with the frustration creeping up the handsome features of his face.

"Of course!"

"_Ehrlich_!" The exasperation burst from Germany like the air from a balloon punctured by a pin. "How do you expect to manage the next three days without the proper clothing, without the proper hiking gear? Did you even bring a sleeping bag?"

The corners of Italy's mouth seemed to grow heavier as they slowly drooped into a frown. He slowly shook his head in reply to the German's interrogation.

Germany slapped the heal of his palm to his forehead in a violent swipe. "Perhaps Japan can share with you since the two of you are so small..."

"I must refrain," came the muffled voice of the introverted Asian. Japan was wrapped tightly in a small, compact sleeping bag as if it were his cocoon, only his head protruding. It was obviously made to cradle only one small person.

Germany smacked his forehead again, his eyes seeming to knit themselves around the heal of his hand. "I am surrounded by useless morons..." he mumbled to himself. "Fine!" he continued loudly. "Since I wouldn't benefit from my ally freezing or catching a cold, I will allow you to share my sleeping bag during this trip."

"Really?" Italy blinked up at the intimidating German.

"Of course, you useless buffoon, I have no reason to lie to you." the blonde replied, defeated. "Now I suggest everyone get to bed soon, we will be waking with the sun tomorrow."

"Eh..?" the amber eyed boy whined querulously.

"No complaints!" Germany fired back in a violent utterance, obviously fed up with his allies' unintended antics.

"Kya! O-o-of course, G-Germany, I'd love to!" came the Italian's quivering response.

With that, Germany pulled out his own oversized sleeping bag, and an extra blanket, all the while lecturing Italy on being prepared and using one's brain.

"_Oyasumi _Germany-san, Italy-kun," Japan called from inside of the humble tent.

"Ja,_ gute Nacht," _Germany replied from outside the tent while brushing his teeth. After a few moments and a quick gargle, Germany entered the dark tent, lit only by a small candle. He could see Italy's relaxed face looking up at the ceiling of the tent as if stargazing. "Well I see you didn't hesitate about getting in my sleeping bag..."

"Why would I? You already said I could," Italy smiled his amber pupils glancing towards Germany, the warm reflection of the candle glinting in his eyes.

"I guess that's true..." He sat down on top of the sleeping bag next to Italy, winding a plain little alarm clock with two bells at the top. With that, the German reluctantly crawled into the cradle of the sleeping bag.

"Hey Germany?" Italy said softly.

"What is it?" the Aryan replied flatly.

"Am I really a useless ally?"

"What brought that up?" Germany glanced at the other.

"Eh..." Italy tried to find the words. "It's just... Never mind."

"Stop being so timid and just come out with it," Germany scolded.

Italy quickly pulled the top of the sleeping bag over his head, shaking his head from side to side, refusing to say anything.

Germany gave a sigh. "What are you doing now?"

"Uh-uh!" Italy pouted immaturely beneath the cover of the sleeping bag.

"Fine, have it your way," Germany turned on his side, his back facing the hiding Italian. After a few moments, Italy shifted and curled up, leaning against Germany, his closed eyes peaking just above the edge of the cover. "Ve..." he sighed softly as sleep took him.

Blue eyes. Those same large, sad blue eyes haunted him yet again in his mind... They were so familiar, but why? And this feeling... It belonged to that person, that overwhelming sadness... Nostalgic... But why? Why could Italy feel the emotion of those eyes, as if they were his to bear as well? Why? "_Italia_...! _Italia_...!" The cries echoed from so far away, Italy was desperate to cling to them...

"-said wake up, Italy!"

"Huh?" Italy's eyes shot open, his heart leaping at the sight of blue eyes staring down at him. "Kyaaa!" Italy cried, scooting away, flustered.

"Uh...?"

"Oh, it's just you, Germany..." Italy sighed, a hand against his pounding chest in relief.

"Who else would I be?" he raised a brow.

Italy thought for a moment. "I don't know..." he mused, but shook his head. "Never mind."

"Well, get dressed, I've been trying to wake you up for the past fifteen minutes." Germany tossed a pile of something heavy in the Italian's lap.

"What's all this?"

"Shoes, coat, hat," Germany replied dryly, "since you didn't bring any of your own. Lucky for you I brought extra. They'll be too big for you, but you'll have to make do."

Italy stared at the items for a moment. "Thanks, Germany!" Italy smiled. He gave a large yawn. "What time is it anyway?"

"A little after six, why?"

There was a cushy thud as Italy threw himself back into the sleeping bag.

"Don't go back to sleep you lazy good-for-nothing!" Germany raved wildly. "I said wake up! Are you sleeping at me right now?"

Germany continued to rant loudly at Italy, but the boy seemed to tune it out as he fell straight back to sleep. Germany's attempts were futile. Everybody knows Italians never wake up earlier than noon. Unless, of course, they smell food, which was the case on this fine mountain morning.

After slumbering a bit longer, Italy woke again, slowly sitting up, his eyes still closed. The smell of bacon wafted into the tent. The auburn haired boy moved the flap of the tent aside and walked outside. "Ve-! It's freezing out here!"

"Well we are a good ways up on a mountain, it is to be expected," came Japan's voice from the other side of a crackling fire. His palms were facing the warm flames, and he was wrapped up in what looked like a coat that belonged to an Eskimo, complete with fluffy hood.

"Why do you think I gave you those warm clothes?" came Germany's voice from a few feet away from the tent. He was dishing bacon and eggs onto plates. "Get your ass back in there and get dressed, you'll get a cold wearing something like that." Germany gestured at Italy's pink tank top and shorts that the boy had slept in.

After agreeing with a large yawn, Italy went back inside to put on the clothes he had been lent. The fuzzy flapped hat fit pretty well, though the puffy coat was too big. The boots were no exception, Italy noted, as he sat down to put them on. They were so large that they clunked around around his feet when he wiggled them, even though they were tied as tight as they would go. So the Italian had, what he was under the impression of, a genius idea. Italy took the boots off, and collected all the socks he had packed – which were three black pairs not including the ones he was already wearing – and put them all on to have a total of four layers of socks. It was like he was wearing big squishy casts on his feet. He put the boots on a second time, and while still a bit loose, they fit much better than before, and were exceedingly comfortable. Italy was so impressed with himself he was actually looking forward to walking the mountain. He emerged from the tent with his bag on his left shoulder, his right hand against his forehead in solute. "Italy reporting for duty!"

Germany and Japan looked over at their comrade in unison, and their faces began to simultaneously contort. Japan did a better job at containing his composure, but Germany couldn't stop himself from snickering.

"Eh? What's so funny?" Italy asked, completely oblivious.

"It's..." Germany spoke between sniggers, "It's your clothes, er, well, my clothes. They're so unfitting, you look ridiculous. Come here, you even buttoned up the coat the wrong way." Italy had begun to frown, but when Germany started to re-button the coat it dissipated. "I'm surprised you were able to tie those shoelaces without me," Germany gibed before returning to plating the breakfast. Italy blushed as he went to go sit next to the campfire, a blush playing across his cheeks.

"Don't let it get to you, Italy-kun," Japan said softly, a hand held up to his mouth as if he were whispering a secret. "I think it makes you look cute." Japan was trying to help in his own way, but regardless, Italy quickly yanked the large fuzzy hat down over his face.

The three ate breakfast with little conversation; Italy didn't even make any comments regarding the mediocrity of the food. After packing their bags for the day and putting out the fire, Germany, Italy, and Japan headed out of the camp and onto the rocky trail, a light snow beginning to fall, dusting the path like powdered sugar.

***~x~***

_Kya! I feel like I've been having a harder time with this story than my other one, and I originally said that MM would be my main priority, it's kinda turning now, where I want to focus on Brooklyn Blacksheep. Let me know which story you like better. Also, I hope you guys don't mind the length of the chapters, I know they're a bit short, but that means I can update more often. As always, I love your guys' support, favorites, reviews, all of it really keeps me going!_

_ See you guys next chapter! =D_


	6. Chapter 6

The wind began to pick up as the three walked along the rugged, natural path of the mountain. Italy clasped his hands around his arms as he shivered. He was glad that Germany had packed extra warm clothes that he could borrow, even if they were too big. The Italian stole a glance towards Germany, who was wearing some heavy looking boots and a big husky brown coat that reminded him of America's bomber jacket. Germany only stared stoically ahead as the three of them walked up the mountain in silence.

After about another thirty minutes or so, Germany stopped walking and turned to speak as they came upon a large clearing that appeared to be the scene of a rockslide full of loose stones and boulders. Italy and Japan stopped walking as well and looked up at the tall man inquisitively.

"I have planned three routines for training today," came his booming voice. "These tasks will test your strength, agility, and endurance, they will challenging your body and your willpower. We will now focus on the first of these tasks: strength! One at a time we will take turns lifting rocks of different and increasing weights, until you can no longer handle it." Germany looked at each of his allies. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" the two saluted in unison.

"_Sehr gut_. Now then," he pointed at Italy, "we will start with Italy, then Japan, then myself."

"Uwah..." Italy whined. "Do I really have to go first...? Maybe I should warm up before I do anything..."

"You don't need to warm up, you need to just do it!" Germany bellowed. "Now, we will each take turns lifting these large rocks I have set up," - Germany pointed to a row of ten rocks increasing in size - "Now go!" he snapped at the Italian.

"Hiii!" Italy squealed, "Okay, okay!" He squabbled towards the neat alignment of stones and gave a large huff as he lifted the first and smallest one between both hands. He let his arms hang like a pendulum under his bent frame.

"Lift with your legs, not your back," Germany instructed from a few feet away.

"I believe in you Italy-kun," Japan added.

Italy's face shone signs of discomfited, but didn't seem to be struggling as Germany counted down. "Two... One... Zero." Italy dropped the rock with a thud in the snow-speckled ground.

"That wasn't terrible, but you need to work on your stance and your stamina. What if you were hanging off the edge of a cliff? You wouldn't last long with that weak resolve."

Italy walked back towards his allies, slapping his hands together as if to rid his palms of any dust. "Okay, Germany. I guess it's Japan's turn now, huh? Go for it, Japan!"

"_Hai_!" the Asian replied, walking determinedly towards the line of rocks.

Japan had made less of a fuss than Italy had, but from the strain in his face, the others could tell he had just as much difficulty as Italy had had, if not more. After Japan's ten seconds Germany's turn came. The muscular blonde effortlessly lifted the rock in one hand as if he were a waiter carrying a platter. They continued taking turns as the air grew colder and the snow slowly began collecting on the ground. They continued lifting stones for the next hour or so, Germany critiquing and scolding as they went. Italy could only make it to the fourth stone, which was roughly the size of an anorexic pumpkin, and Japan could only make it to the third, which was no bigger than his head. Once Italy and Japan could not lift anything heavier, they took turns lifting the third and fourth rocks while Germany continued all the way to the tenth. On the eight Germany had shown signs of fatigue, on the ninth he began to look uncomfortable, and on the tenth he looked to be slightly struggling, but was able to lift every stone in his challenge.

After Italy's incessant nagging, Germany allowed everyone to take a break, and they each chose a rock to sit on to have a snack. Italy had tried to sneak some leftover teramisu into his mouth, but as he was about to take a bite, Germany had snatched the dessert away and replaced it with an apple and a granola bar. Italy murmured something about Germany being stingy, but ate the snack he was given anyway. After about twenty minutes Germany stood up on the now completely snow-obscured earth and told them it was time for the second challenge.

"Now you will be tested on your agility," he said, as the three of them walked to a more tumultuous part of the clearing which was covered in rocks and boulders of all shapes and sizes. "I have marked these stones with red and blue chalk. Your objection is to make it from the starting point, which is here, to the finish point on the other end."

"Aw, that sounds so easy, even I can do that!" Italy grinned. "It's like hopscotch!"

"Italy-kun, I don't think that's all of-" Japan began before Germany shouted an interjection.

"That's not all of it, so don't get cocky and let your guard down! You must make it across the rocks without falling off within the time limit. Also, you are only allowed to step on the rocks marked with blue; if your step on a red rock you will be shot with paintballs as punishment."

"Erm..." Japan hesitantly raised his hand.

"Yes! What is it Japan?" Germany pointed enthusiastically at the introverted Japanese.

"What exactly is our time limit?"

"Yeah, and when do we get to have lunch?" Italy piped up.

"Lunch will be given at 12:30 sharp. And the time limit for each run will be sixty seconds, any questions?"

"So it is just like hopscotch!" Italy yipped.

"No it is not like hopscotch!" Germany boomed. "As punishment for your insolence, you will go first!"

"I though I was gonna go first anyway-"

"GO!"

Italy scrambled towards the rocky coarse. It looked like this was where the most damage of the rockslide had been done, just a large jumble of gray. He clambered onto the starting point while Germany pulled out a whistle and a stopwatch.

"On my mark..!" Germany blew hard on the whistle.

Italy's heart suddenly pounded with adrenaline, and determination to win the game of hopscotch flooded through his veins. He readied himself, lunched, and then- tripped on the first rock, causing him to fall face-first into the rubble with a small poof of dust. If it were not for his large, padded clothing, Italy may have injured himself, but luckily is was just a bit of an uncomfortable thud. He could hear Japan call from about twenty feet away, "Are you alright Italy-kun?" Germany and Japan could see a shaky thumbs-up from just over the jumble of rocks.

"Okay, Italy, since you totally screwed that up, come back and give Japan a turn," Germany called.

Italy walked back with a guilty, awkward grin on his face, a smudge of blue chalk across his middle. He gave Japan another thumbs-up as they passed each other. Japan took his place at the starting point, waiting for Germany's signal.

"Ready, and..!" The whistle rang out and echoed around the clearing.

Japan sprung from the rock with such suavity he might have been a professional ice skater. He leaped from rock to rock as if he already knew the entire coarse by heart. Germany and Italy watched as the limber easterner ran, but Japan was only about two thirds of the way through the course when Germany blew his whistle and pulled a small gun from his waist.

"G-G-Germany! What do you think you're doing?" Italy shrieked upon seeing the weapon.

"Relax, would you?" Germany shot irritably. "It's a paintball gun." He brandished the firearm at Italy with one eye closed. He turned back towards Japan, who was in the same place he had halted at about thirty meters away, hunched over a bit and panting lightly. Germany had no trouble taking aim and firing two shots, one at each of the back of Japan's shin's.

Italy flinched as the gun fired, and could see Japan flinching as well. "That's really mean, Germany!" Italy pouted.

"I told you both there would be punishment for not reaching the finish line in time. Which reminds me..." Germany lowered his gun and shot Italy square in the ass.

Italy yelped loudly, small droplets in the corner of his eyes as he clamped his hands behind him. "Uwaaaah! That really, really hurt! No fair, why'd you shoot me at such a close distance?"

"Because you screwed up ten times worse than Japan." Germany replied nonchalantly. "Consider yourself lucky I only shot you once."

"You're cruel!" Italy pouted, crossing his arms in a flamboyant movement as he turned away, his nose in the air.

"..." Germany shot Italy a look, though the boy didn't see it.

Japan came back to the two of them, still lightly panting. "I'm sorry... Germany-san, I failed..."

"Actually, you did surprisingly well, even for the strict time limit I made."

"_Arigatou_. I swear to to better next time." Japan gave a small bow.

"Well then, looks like it's my turn." Germany handed the stopwatch and whistle to Japan and headed to the starting point. The whistle rang out for the third time and Germany took off. He certainly wasn't as graceful as Japan was, but he jumped past the first rock with ease, unlike Italy. When Japan had run the course he was nimble and easily evaded the rocks marked with red, but Germany was not so careful, running heavily in his large boots, he almost slipped a quarter of the way through, but regained balance quickly. He was little more than a third of the way through before accidentally stepping on a red marked rock, and Japan blew the whistle again.

Germany came jogging back, scratching his neck. "Damn, I guess I didn't pay enough attention. Oh-! Right, here-" Germany pulled the paintball gun from his waist and shoved it into Italy's hands. "You can do the honors," he said as he stepped back a few feet to give him a clear shot.

"I..." Italy looked down at the gun in his hands.

"Go on," Germany said and spread his arms. "Anywhere you want."

"I don't..." Italy mumbled, looking down at the gun in his hands.

"Well?"

"I don't wanna!" Italy shouted.

"Huh?" Germany tilted his head. "Why not? I shot you, after all."

Italy lowered the gun to his side. "I don't care, I just don't wanna shoot at you!" Italy frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he stared at Germany.

Japan took the gun from Italy's loose grip and pointed it at Germany. "Don't sully his honor, Italy-kun." And then he fired. "Each of us earned this after all."

Germany flinched slightly as red paint splattered his shoulder. "Nice shot, Japan," he squinted, clasping his hand over his stained shoulder. Italy didn't say anything, but merely averted his eyes towards the snow-covered ground. "Don't feel bad, Italy. Japan is right. It would have been shameful to have been the only one to not get shot after all of us messed up. So chin up." Germany lightly tapped upwards with his thumb on the underside of Italy's chin. "Besides, it's your turn again."

Italy gave a gulp and a pout as he looked over at the rocky terrain. They spent the next amount of time taking turns on the coarse, just as they had done before while lifting the rocks. Everybody had improved, even Italy, who on his second attempt didn't manage to fall on his face. Several paintball wounds later, Italy managed to make it a third of the way into the course, Germany could make it four fifths, and had almost made it to the finish a couple times. Japan on the other hand, was able to make it past the finish twice.

At half past noon the three of them sat down, considerably more filthy and scuffed up than they had been when they arrived. Japan had insisted on taking care of lunch for everybody that day, so they all ate the onigiri and dango he made. Italy praised Japan for the 'really good cake kabob things,' but when he thanked Germany for not being the one to pack the lunch he was inevitably whacked over the head. To the Italian's dismay the group got back to training shortly after one o'clock. By that time the wind had picked up and was biting at their noses and cheeks, snow falling more persistently now. Germany explained that he had set up a course by marking rocks and trees with arrows to follow, and tied ribbons to branches to collect. He blew his whistle, and they all broke out into a unison run. Germany was a bit ahead of the other two, pacing himself, Japan behind him and already beginning to pant, and Italy even farther behind Japan, huffing like he'd already run the course.

"Are there... any punishments this time... Germany-san?" Japan asked breathlessly.

"Yes, the one with the fewest ribbons at the end is the one who has to clean and make dinner tonight."

"That's not much of a punishment," Italy called from behind. "I like cooking, I'll lose on purpose!"

"In that case, Italy, if you are the one to lose, you won't be cooking, and instead you will be eating dinner with England when we get home."

"_Nooooo_-!" Italy shrieked as he sped ahead of everyone and down the path, his panicked cries of England's terrible cooking looming in the distance.

"Italy...!" Germany yelled in frustration, speeding up as well. "You're supposed to be pacing yourself!"

Japan was left on his own as his blonde and auburn haired allies disappeared into the snow-obscured path ahead.

"Italy, slow down!" Germany shouted as the Italian came into his sight.

"No! I'm not gonna eat England's crappy cooking! Never!"

"You're supposed to pace yourself in a long distance race like this!"

"I don't care!" Italy cried as he snatched a purple ribbon from a tree branch without stopping. "I'd eat a thousand of your gross sausages before setting foot in that guy's kitchen!"

"His cooking isn't that bad-! Okay, well it is, but still, it won't kill you!"

"Yes it will!"

"No, it won't! Slow down!"

"No!"

"Italy!"

Things went on like that for the next ten or fifteen minutes as Italy collected a ribbon here and there between screeches. His speed had considerably slowed after the elapsed time, and Germany was catching up. The wind was rushing past them, and seemed to grow stronger as the minutes passed.

"Italy, we're not even on the path anymore!" Germany shouted, but the boy didn't respond, he didn't even seem to hear. The Aryan gave a lunge forward, grabbing Italy's hand. Italy stumbled a few steps forward, then sideways, then backwards, and fell back into the thick layer of snow below, Germany on top of him, his face pressed into the boy's chest. They were both sprawled abstractly on the snow, breathing heavily from the exerting run. Four purple ribbons were clasped tightly in Italy's right hand, Germany's fingers over his other hand from when he had grabbed him. They lay there silently for a minute or so while they each caught their breath. After Germany's panting lessened, he laid his palms in the snow on either side of Italy's body and pushed himself up a few inches. He looked down at Italy, who's eyes were tightly shut and breathing heavily still. Their faces were not three inches apart. Germany blinked a few times and glanced away as a blush played across his face. He rolled off of Italy and onto his back next to him. Both their arms were spread, as if they were going to make snow angels, their fingers touching lightly.

"S-sorry..." Germany mumbled, still breathing deeply.

"It's... okay... We both tripped after all..." Italy panted in reply. "At least you were warm..."

Germany blinked, his blush clinging to his cheeks. "Y...yeah..."

"It's gotten a lot colder..." Italy said quietly, his eyes still closed. White flakes of snow had fallen and clung to his hair, and a few places here and there over his body. They were beginning to build up on Germany as well. As the two lay there, the wind began to sigh loudly as it gusted through the mountain, forcing snow down on them. Italy shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he rolled toward Germany, his forehead pressed against the blonde's chest. Before Germany could say anything Italy spoke up. "I'm getting really cold..."

Germany assured himself that the blush that reappeared n his face was just from the biting cold as he quickly sat up.

"What is it, Germany?" Italy asked, opening his eyes and looking up at the other as he sat up as well.

"We should probably go find Japan," he said rigidly. "The whether is getting worse, I don't think we should be training with things like this."

"Oh, r-right!" Italy nodded.

The two trudged through the thickening snow on the ground as they headed back towards the path. They walked on and on for what seemed like a half hour with no sign of Japan, or the path Germany had marked. Snow beat down against their faces and the wind clawed at their cheeks, relentless and brutal. They began calling out for Japan, though it seemed futile. Even if the easterner were near by he wouldn't have had heard their calls over the bellowing of the wind. There was no sun, the sky was a jumble of white and gray, a bleak mural of never ending storm. Italy's voice, after all the calling, had begun to grow hoarse, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out weak little coughs every now and then. Germany hardly said a word aside from calling out for his ally. Even so, Italy could tell that he was cold as well.

Italy stopped walking as he gave into a harsh coughing fit. Germany doubled back a few steps and hunched over to look at him. "Are you alright?" he asked, peering down at Italy. "You look terrible."

"N-no, I'm... I'm fine. It's... just a little cough... that's all..." Italy muttered in a low raspy voice between coughs.

"No, I don't think you are," Germany said as he ripped his glove off with his teeth to press his hand against Italy's forehead. "_Sheise_, you're burning up!"

"Don't... be silly, Germany," Italy coughed. "It's probably just a... l-little cold. We need to focus on... finding Japan."

Germany didn't say anything for a moment. "I think... the best thing to do right now is to get you to some shelter and out of this blizzard."

"B-but Japan-!"

"Once I know that you are safe and out of this blizzard I will go look for him myself."

"..." Italy frowned as he did his best to hold in his coughing.

Germany grabbed amber eyed boy by the shoulders. "Listen! Are you my ally or not?" he said sharply.

"O-of course I am, Germany!"

"Then you need to do as I ask! We need to find you some shelter as soon as possible. Those clothes just won't hold up against this whether, and you've already got a fever. I'm not going to keep dragging you around in this storm, risking your life while trying to assure the safety of another. I need to know that you are safe before I can keep searching for Japan." Germany gave Italy's shoulders a tight squeeze as he looked into the boy's eyes. "Now please..."

Italy closed his eyes with a slight furrow in his brow. "Alright," he said quietly. "But promise me that you'll bring Japan back safely." Italy held up his hand, his pinky out.

"I swear on my life." Germany curled his pinky finger around Italy's. "Now let's get moving."

The two walked on for another twenty minutes or so before Italy was hit by another coughing spell. He lurched in fluidized gags as he fell to his knees, a hand clamped over his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Germany asked as he knelt next to his comrade.

"Just... just a little dizzy... that's all," Italy replied in a weak voice.

"Here," Germany said, and turned to present his back to Italy. "Get on."

"Are... you sure?"

"Just do it." Germany demanded.

Italy clambered onto Germany's back, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. To his surprise, Germany was shaking just as badly as he was. He nuzzled his face in the niche between Germany's neck and shoulder and held him tightly. He felt bad for being such a burden, but he couldn't deny the fact that the heat radiating off of Germany was extremely pleasant, even if it was faint.

"Germany..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry... about this."

"Shut up." Italy was a little surprised, but not at his words. It was Germany's tone. He hadn't said it in an animus way, it was much...warmer. And reassuring. He gave Germany's waist a little squeeze with his legs that were wrapped around him as a response.

Germany could feel Italy's short, weak breaths on his neck. It felt nice, warm. It was almost nonexistent, but it was there. He knew his cheeks were tinted pink, even though his face was numb from the cold. He preferred carrying him like this, with their bodies pressed together, Italy's warmth felt amazing in comparison to the merciless wind lashing at it.

They walked on, in search of shelter, in search of anything but the wind and snow. Italy had fallen somewhere between slumber and consciousness while clinging to the German like a child. Random things passed through his head, like dreams. The three of them playing hopscotch together, eating onigiri in different cute little shapes, making snow angels with Germany, his blue eyes... Blue eyes... Whose? Blue... A small boy with blonde hair formed before Italy. His body wasn't very clear, but he seemed to be wearing a deep blue cape, his golden bangs hung loosely over his forehead, brushing across the tops of his eyes. His eyes, his sad blue eyes. Italy gazed into them, and the boy gazed into his. He was trying to tell him something, something important. It felt like the world was dissolving... dissipating until the only thing left was the boy's sad face. Just his big, deep eyes. All he could feel was longing and despair... in those big blue eyes. Those eyes...

Italy bolted upright, only to remember that Germany had been carrying him. The sudden jolt made Germany loose his grip, and so did Italy, who slid off his back and landed in the snow. "Ah, er, sorry..." Italy murmured from the ground.

"Are you alright?"

"I just... I feel really dizzy..." Italy held his forehead in his hand. "Ah! Germany! We need to go over there!" Italy pointed with his other hand past Germany, a bit skewed off from the direction they had been walking in.

"What? Why?"

"I think... I think that's where we'll find shelter," Italy coughed.

"How do you know?"

"I just... do."

"Hell, I'll take it," Germany said, kneeling down for Italy to climb back onto his back. Italy got on, but just barely. This time he didn't even wrap his arms around Germany's neck, he just let them hang limply over the man's shoulders. Neither of them said anything as they headed in the direction Italy had pointed out. And just like that, after a few more minutes of walking there was a small rocky area in the distance. As Germany approached he saw that it was a small cave. He sped into a run until he finally made it into the safety of the cave. The space was about fifteen feet deep, and the ceiling was around ten feet high, a comfortable enough space for not dying in a blizzard.

"Look, Italy, you were right!" Germany said as he knelt to let Italy down from his back.

"I'm... glad..." Italy said with a small, weak smile as his grip released from Germany. But as suddenly as he had said the words, he fell away from Germany and to the cave floor.

"Italy!" was the last thing he heard before consciousness slipped away.

_~x~_

_Nya! This is probably my favorite chapter of MM so far ^^;; Plus it's unintentionally twice as long as the chapters I usually write. I hope you guys liked this one, 'cause I certainly did! I hope I didn't get too out of character with Germany and Italy towards the end. Oh, and we got a bit more of a glimpse at 'the blue eyed boy,' so hopefully some of you enjoyed that. Anyway, enough chatter, I seriously need to sleep ^^; As always, I love reviews, feedback, anything!_

_See you next chapter! ^.-_


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